


Touching Insanity

by SkylaDoragono



Category: Bleach, Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Religious, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-08
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylaDoragono/pseuds/SkylaDoragono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't run he can't hide; cast into Hell and forgotten, Szayel wishes for <i>anything</i> that will save him from an eternity of torment.  He finds it in an undying flame, leading him to a new world... but at the cost of having to deal with a young child with the mind of an infant.  Forced to adapt, it's not long before he learns the value of life and the price one pays for ignorance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Hell Chapter

PROLOGUE – HELL CHAPTER

They had found him again.

Pink and white dashed through the dismal abyss that surrounded him, insane cackling that would make his own unhinged laugh sound normal. They wanted him to pay his dues to this Hell, accept his punishment and be chained down in eternal suffering. These despicable Sinners had already taken down the Novena, cracking open the dome that held the creature’s twin heads. He could still hear Aaroniero's heads yowling in pain as they were juggled back and forth, his body laying somewhere nearby, still alive despite the fact that his heads had been separated from it.

Szayel Aporro Granz refused to submit to such torture.

The scientist ducked under a rocky outcropping, shuddering in what he refused to acknowledge as overwhelming fear. He had once been the Octava Espada, a person to be feared for his cruelty and disregard for life. That meant little in Hell, where the Sinners ruled, determined to pull everyone in a suffering worse than anything he had put anyone else through. The first beating had been lesson enough, where he had even let loose a Gran Rey Cero, and it meant nothing before their power. These creatures made him look tame, and the thought of being captured by them again made his stomach bottom out.

He could hear them cackling as they passed over him, not noticing where he was hiding, but that brought him little comfort. Their ability to detect another's presence rivaled the Cuarto, and he knew it would be no time at all before they came back to torture him again. It had been a very long time since he had felt so weak, and that crushing feeling closed around his heart as he buried his head in his knees, fighting against another shudder.

"Please... anything... I'll take _anything_ over this..."

Silence was the only thing that answered his weakened plea, and he found himself fighting against a sob that rose up in his throat. Barely a second later, the sound of a flickering flame reached his ears, and he looked up in time to see a fire roar to life before him. Szayel yelped, pressing himself against the rock, fully expecting to be attacked, when he realized that the fire was tame, flickering in the form of a man. He paused, staring at it in bewilderment...

 _"Szayel Aporro Granz."_

Well, the voice in his head was certainly enough to make him jump out of his skin.

"Who are you?" he demanded, trying to save what little of his pride he could.

 _"I am one that can bring you out of the Abyss. But you must change a future I have foreseen."_

A way out? Szayel stared at the flame like it was going to say, "Just kidding," any second. The bad joke never came, and he fumbled for a moment, trying to find a good response.

"If you're serious..." he began carefully. "I'll do anything to get out of here."

The flame seemed to nod... before suddenly shooting off, leaving a blazing trail behind.

 _"Then follow."_

Szayel did not need further prompting. Sonído helped him keep pace with the flame, dashing after it with little effort. It was not long after that he could hear the cackling of the Sinners, and he quickened his pace, traveling faster than he ever had before. This flame was his way out of Hell; he was not about to let himself get captured now.

Instead of ascending the layers of Hell, they traveled downward instead, deeper into the Abyss. He wanted to ask why they were traveling _down_ instead of _up,_ but with the sounds of the Sinners coming ever closer, he was not about to waste his energy asking pointless questions. It was a long time before they finally came to a stop in the deepest pit of hell, the flaming creature burning brightly in the darkness and shedding the only light Szayel could see for miles around.

 _"I must ask you to suppress your power and allow me to carry you from here."_

Szayel stared at the thing. "What?"

 _"When we pass through the barrier into the next world, your power will be a burning beacon to the creatures of this world. Should you use your power, you would enable the Dwellers to tear open the Abyss and flood into the world. You must suppress your power and exist as a living creature."_

"You're asking me to deny my existence," Szayel hissed, liking this deal less and less. To live as a disgusting human... like one look at him would give anyone with any modicum of sense that he was far from normal.

The chilling cackling snapped him back to reality soon after, and he swore violently under his breath; then again, what was the point of keeping his powers and staying here, if they were useless to begin with? Reluctantly, he withdrew Fornicarás from its sheath, staring at the sword that was essentially his very being, before placing a hand on it. His spiritual pressure spiked as he forced everything that made him an arrancar into the blade, the weapon burning red hot as it took everything on. Pain seared through Szayel's body almost immediately, and once the deed was done, he collapsed to his knees, weakness and pain eating away at his body like a parasite. Fornicarás dulled as the seal was complete, and the flame seemed to nod in approval.

 _"Let us ascend."_

Szayel swore he heard a vein pop. _Ascend?!_ They were going to ascend to this world? Then why the _hell_ had this flame dragged him all the way down here?! No sooner could he act on voicing those thoughts, however, did he feel himself engulfed in flames. He panicked, expecting to be burned alive; yet while the flames were indeed hot, it felt more like comforting warmth instead of one that would bring death. He caught a glimpse of one of his more rotund pursuers as he was lifted up into the air, protected by flames that seemed to repel the Sinners. There was only a moment for him to feel relief… before they suddenly plunged _down,_ through the earth.

This was not what most people would refer to as "ascending".

It was a while before gravity told Szayel that he was standing upright again, never mind that they had never changed direction. Barely a moment later they burst out from the darkness, purple sludge dripping down around his flaming shield. Without his abilities, the utter foulness of their surroundings hit Szayel hard, and he let out a horrible cough, covering his mouth and nose, for all the good it would do him.

"What is this place?!" he demanded, though his question went ignored. They continued to fly up into the hazy black atmosphere, thick with clouds and... rock?

With a _poof,_ they emerged from the dark world, surrounded by what seemed like an endless ocean and clear blue skies. The flames hovered over the hole in the ocean for a brief moment, before shooting off to the west from Szayel's viewpoint, barely giving the scientist the time to adjust to the speed. It was some time before land came into sight, and even longer before they finally set down in the middle of a dense forest, what looked like an ancient castle close by in the distance. Night had fallen by then, and the flames flickered brightly against the darkness, before melding away from Szayel, reforming into the creature that had brought him out of Hell.

 _"This is my world, Auldrant."_

Szayel steadied himself against a tree, glancing around. He had seen very little in the way of settlements, though admittedly he had been trying not to be sick through the journey. He turned his attention back to the flames, clearly stating with his eyes that he was not, nor was he ever, amused by all this.

"And what is it that you expect me to do in this place?"

The flames flickered for a moment, and Szayel got the impression that it was looking at something beyond their surroundings.

 _"Another scion of mine has been born into this world,"_ it intoned softly. _"I charge you with his protection."_

Szayel raised an eyebrow, admittedly a touch surprised. Scion... it almost sounded like a deity of some kind; this world's equivalent of the Spirit King perhaps? Whatever it was, it clearly was not very bright.

"You are trusting _me_ with the protection of someone so important?" he sneered.

The flames seemed to flicker indignantly. _"If you seek salvation. Otherwise..."_

It trailed off as darkness suddenly opened up at Szayel's feet. The scientist panicked, trying to move away... but no more sonído.

"All right! _All right!"_

The darkness closed, and Szayel let out an annoyed noise. Whatever, all he needed to do was look after some brat. How hard could that be?

"Where is this boy?" he grumbled, brushing himself off.

The flames turned to the side, seeming to point to the castle in the distance, and Szayel felt his shoulders slump. Oh, wonderful; no powers, and he had to go in and find some child.

He reluctantly moved toward the castle, before the flames spoke again.

 _"One thing you must know. This world is much more spiritually dense than your own. Everyone in this world will be able to see, hear, and interact with you. As far as they will know, you are as human as they are, and as long as your powers remain sealed, that is all they will ever know."_

Szayel glared at the flames behind him, trying not to twitch in irritation. As _human_ as the rest of the filth... he was not going to enjoy this.

 _"My powers are diminishing. We will not meet like this again."_

With a loud snap, the flames fizzled away, as if they had never been there. Szayel stared for a moment, before letting out an irate noise as he returned his attention to the castle before him. Well, may as well get this over with...

~.oOOo.~

"A flame, you say?"

His rotund minion merely nodded, finished with his description of their escaped soul. A smirk played across his lips; oh yes, he was disappointed that one of their numbered collection had managed to get out of his grasp, but the fact the Espada had _escaped Hell_ intrigued him. Shuren had been attempting to find such an escape since he had been awakened, but he had already determined that none of those wannabe shinigami had enough power to do so.

Then that meant there was something else out there that could pass through the boundaries of Hell... and maybe not even just Hell...

"Keep your guard up," he finally ordered, a faint chuckle escaping from him. "After all, even if he is not chained, he is still a Sinner. Someone like him has no hope of finding redemption...

"...and I will enjoy being there when he falls again."


	2. Chapter One: The Sacred Flame

CHAPTER ONE – THE SACRED FLAME

It had taken so many months, but Luke fon Fabre had finally made it back home.

He ran through the streets of Baticul, soaked in the blood of monsters and caked with dirt, but green eyes still vibrant with the thought of getting back up to the topmost part of the city. Up there was his home, his family, and everything he had ever known. He could never leave again, would never let anyone take that away from him again. Guards were practically tossed out of his way as he busted onto the grounds of the Fabre manor, maids whirling around and staring as he dashed past them.

 _He was back._

"Father!" he bellowed when he saw the tall man, and Duke Fabre whirled around at the familiar voice, eyes near bulging out of his head.

 _"Luke?!"_ his father exclaimed in disbelief. Luke dropped the sword twice his height that he had been carrying all these months, launching himself into his father's arms and burying his head in his stomach. There was a moment of tension, before his father pulled him away, kneeling down before his son and running his hand through his muddied red hair.

"It really is you... my son..." he murmured, and it was the first time Luke had ever seen a smile on his father's face. He could not stop it; he cried for the first time he could remember, hugging him tight.

"It's me, father... it's me..."

Maids, guards, servants; the entirety of the Fabre Household crowded around father and son to welcome back their young master. Luke was overwhelmed, and the tears had yet to stop as he received hugs from anyone daring enough to do so, not caring who it was. There were two people he noticed were missing, however, and after the hugs and welcome homes had died down, Luke turned to his father, a feeling of dread starting well up in him.

"Father... where is Guy? And mother?"

Silence fell over the crowd, and his father looked away, resting a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Guy has been dismissed... I was afraid..." he began, trailing off as he shook his head. "Pere left with him; I don't know what became of them."

Luke felt his blood run cold. "And... mother?"

His father's hand on his shoulder tightened. "Your mother..."

He could not say it, and he did not really need to either. Luke felt his heart hit the bottom of his stomach as he bowed his head, trembling.

"Van..." he murmured softly, and at his father’s questioning look, he lifted his head, anger flashing in his eyes. "All of this is Van's fault! He was the one that kidnapped me! He made another me, and then he took me to Daath, and—"

Everything that happened came pouring out all at once, every little experiment, every little bit of pain he had been put through over the last few months; and as he spoke, his father's expression grew darker, to the point where he was near trembling with rage. His hand still on his son's shoulder, he stood up, flinging a hand out to encompass the servants of House Fabre around them.

"Send word to the Order immediately!" he bellowed. "I want Commandant Grants arrested at once for crimes against the Kimlascan royal house!"

No one needed further prompting; couriers scrambled to relay the message, both to Daath, and to inform His Majesty of everything that had transpired in the mansion’s court yard. The rest of the servants slowly dispersed, maids talking amongst themselves as they went back to their tasks, a few guards lingering protectively over the young master and his father. Duke Fabre remained standing for a moment, forcing himself to calm, before he knelt down beside his son once again.

"Luke, tell me. Where were you all this time?"

Luke shook his head, reaching up to cling to his father's hand. "I'm not sure, father. What I can remember... it was very dark, and..."

He trailed off, remembering the flashes of green, and the loud cries of a child being born, only with his own voice...

"I ask because we had received an anonymous tip, saying that you might be found in our old summer home," the duke continued. "When soldiers were sent to look, all that was found were two people that had been killed days before."

"There... wasn't another me there?" Luke asked softly, to which his father shook his head. He paused for a long moment before he continued, "Van kept saying that I should forget about my home... that I was to be replaced. I think he might have sent that tip, so that you would find the other me."

A cold look settled over Duke Fabre's face, one that turned frigid as he started working things out in his head. Luke tilted his own head in concern, wondering if maybe his father might have had a clue as to Van's actions.

"Father, do you know why he would have done that?"

The question brought his father back to the present, and he managed a smile for his son.

"No... no, I don't. But I assure you, Luke, he will pay for it."

The duke stood once again, and decided to personally escort his son to where he may get a much needed bath and a suitable change of clothes. Even as they walked in silence, however, Luke could not help but wonder what might have become of the other him...

~.oOOo.~

Adapting himself to Hell was starting to become more and more appealing by the second. That was, of course, assuming that this was not the _real_ Hell, and the place he had been in before was really paradise.

To be frank, Szayel had been expecting a baby when the flame said that another scion had been born into the world. Yes, it would have been annoying, but he could deal with the crying and what have you; he had been prepared for it. Nothing could have prepared him for what he did find: a redheaded boy of about ten years with the mentality of an infant. True the only difference was the apparent age, but somehow that made it worse; perhaps because when Szayel looked at him, he expected the child to have some sort of intelligence. Sadly, the thing did not even know how to crawl, which often left him carting the despicable thing around in his arms.

To make it worse, without his powers, he could not even figure out what the hell was wrong with the idiot.

They had stopped for the night, and as usual the boy more or less shut up, watching with morbid fascination as he went through the laborious task of building a fire from what little wood could be found on the mountain. Finding something to eat proved irritating as well; not so much the task as the fact that Szayel quickly discovered that he could not feast upon the soul of the stupid animal he caught – that power had been taken from him as well. So, he had to find a way to cook the damn thing without any kind of tools to do so. The first night, he had lost a glove to the fire, though admittedly, better the glove than his hand.

As he finally set some meat down on a leaf before the boy, he was damn determined to get himself in something resembling a lab before he went insane.

The boy stared at it, as if trying to decide if it was something he was supposed to play with, before looking up to Szayel. He watched as he put a piece in his mouth, chewing, and swallowing; and he attempted to do the same, before quickly finding it was hot.

 _"Angh!"_ the boy whined, scooting away from the food and staring at it like it would bite him. Szayel paused mid-chew, raising an eyebrow, before rolling his eyes. You had to be kidding him... he took the meat back, blowing on it until it cooled, before settling it back down before the child. He stared at it, before carefully scooting forward, poking it with a finger repeatedly. When he was finally satisfied that it was safe, he popped a piece into his mouth, mimicking Szayel as he ate.

That was, until he decided that was yet another thing he did not like.

The boy made a face as he swallowed, sticking his tongue out at Szayel a moment later. He rolled his eyes yet again; what did the boy expect? He had not needed to cook in _at least_ a couple hundred years.

"Eat it or eat nothing," came the usual response, and the boy pouted up at him, as if that would make him give him something else. Thankfully, the boy had learned his lesson from the last time Szayel had given him that warning, and he reluctantly picked at the meat, making faces as he ate.

Szayel sighed faintly, enjoying the quiet as he finished his meal, before huddling under his cape. There thankfully had been a map in the castle where he had found the boy, but unfortunately, the only places that had been close to the castle were a port and a checkpoint, neither of which they would have been very successful in without proper identification. Without knowing just who the boy was supposed to be, he did not want to take that chance; for all he knew, the boy had suffered an injury that led to total amnesia, and that someone was out there looking for him. So their only possible destination was a small city beyond the mountains. It would not have been so terrible... except for the ungodly biting cold that seemed to freeze his very bones. Clearly, it was the winter months for this area of the world, and Szayel would not have been surprised if it started snowing any moment.

He was jostled out of his thoughts by a whine, and he looked over to see the boy had finished his meal and was holding his hands out to him. It had not taken Szayel long to figure out what that meant, and the complaining that would result if he did not comply. Still, he was in no mood for lifting the damnable creature, and he resolutely ignored him. As expected, the whine came almost immediately, though surprisingly it did not escalate into howls of rage. For a moment, Szayel thought the boy had finally learned that he was not going to submit to his every whim... when he felt something pulling at his pant leg. He jumped, looking down to see the boy had crawled over to him, and was now attempting to pull himself onto Szayel's lap. The scientist could only stare for a moment, before he shook his head, spreading his arms out so the boy could succeed in his task. He plunked down on him, wrapping his arms around his midsection and nestling against his chest as Szayel brought his cloak about them both.

"Insufferable brat," he muttered under his breath as the child let out a happy coo.

~.oOOo.~

The expected snow started to fall as soon as they descended from the mountain.

It was really amazing how much one realized how dependent they were on their abilities when they were gone. The cold shot through Szayel's simple white clothing, and not even his cloak was enough to warm him. His teeth chattered violently as the wind whipped him and the boy around the road, and he could hear an occasional whine below him from the boy wrapped securely around his waist, holding onto him for dear life as he trudged through the quickly accumulating white mess. He had to get them both to that damn city, or it was going to be a very swift trip back to Hell.

He reached down, pulling the boy up to his chest in a vain effort to keep them both warmer and to have something to cling to as he walked. The boy let out a faint noise, curling up into a tight ball and trembling violently against him. Szayel tried not to think about how much longer it would be before organs started shutting down from the cold, or if he would not be much farther behind. After all, he was technically already dead, and...

He shook his head violently, focusing on the faint indentation in the snow where the road was. The snow was piling up higher and higher, soaking through his hakama and boots, and he could hear a faint squelch with every step. His glasses had lines of frost along the glass, and if he were capable, he would have torn them off and discarded them so he could see better. He was so cold, he could not even feel his arms wrapped tightly around the boy, and his teeth were chattering so hard he swore they would crack.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head, afraid to see even more whiteness spread out before him... only to catch a faint glimpse of light nearby. For a moment he stopped and stared, almost believing his mind was playing tricks on him, but when the lights did not fade, Szayel bolted forward, hopping through the snow so he could move as fast as possible. It was no time before a small shack came into view, the light of a lantern flickering back and forth as it struggled to stay alight in the wind and the snow.

The mess was up to he knees by the time he got to the door, and he managed to unwind an arm around the boy to pound on it, hoping and praying that there would be an answer. He had to pound again before he finally heard something move inside, and the door was forced open a moment later, revealing a man with a bushy brown beard. He stared at Szayel in shock as the pink haired man struggled to get his voice to work.

"S-s-s-she-e-elt-t-er p-p-p—"

He did not get a chance to finish; the man grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him inside. Even in the sudden warmth, Szayel still felt chilled to the bone, and the boy did not seem to want to let go of him even though they were safe, though he did poke his head up through his cloak.

"What in the _hell_ are you doin' out in this weather?!" the man demanded. "And with a kid no less!"

"G-g-got l-lost," Szayel chattered, hoping the man would take his lack of details due to the fact that if he shook anymore, he would shake the walls down.

Fortunately, any further questions were put on hold. The man dragged him to in front of a fire, not even bothering trying to separate the two of them. Szayel did not bother either, allowing the warmth to wash over him and fighting to keep his shuddering down. Blankets were piled on top of them a moment later, and he did not think he would ever be warm enough again in his existence.

Some time passed, before the boy raised his head, letting a whimpering noise out as he unwound himself from Szayel's chest finally. He set him down on his knees, muttering a strict reminder that fire was hot and not to be touched. Fortunately, the boy did not seem in a very curious mood, tugging one of Szayel's blankets off and letting it flop over himself. He shook his head in exasperation as the lump under the blanket rocked back and forth, but refrained from comment.

"Here," the man said suddenly, and Szayel found himself presented with a mug of steaming hot coffee. He was not exactly partial to the substance, but he was not about to be picky at the moment. The man paused, staring at the blanket lump on the floor, before going over and tapping the top of it. The boy peeked out from underneath curiously, and the man offered another mug, which had hot chocolate in it. He took it, flopping the blanket back over himself without comment, and the man stared in befuddlement.

"Don't ask," Szayel muttered as he sipped at his coffee, watching the man as he settled in a chair nearby. "I don't understand him either."

"He's not yours?" the man asked, and the scientist had the fight back the urge to twitch. Assuming he even could produce offspring, _his_ child would have an actual brain.

"Yes and no," Szayel replied. "I left home because I was given the responsibility of caring for him. When I found him... he must have suffered a head injury, because he seems to have total amnesia."

The man looked down to the lumpy (and now slurping) blanket, a sympathetic look on his face. Well, at least Szayel still had the power of a lying bastard; and at the same time, it was not a complete lie either. Beneficial either way.

"Where are you heading?" the man continued, and Szayel shook his head sadly.

"To the capital," he replied, deciding to go with the safe answer. "Unfortunately as I was looking for the boy, I was ambushed on the road, and I lost my passport."

"Seems like you haven't been having a good couple of days," the man replied, sounding sympathetic.

Szayel just sipped at his coffee without comment; "bad day" did not quite adequately describe how _shitty_ his life had become.

~.oOOo.~

It had been eight years since the fall of the island kingdom of Hod, and it had been just as long since the son of that lost kingdom had seen his home country. Keeping himself hidden within the territory of his enemies, he had been lying in wait for the right moment to strike, and bring the man that had destroyed his life the same misery that he had suffered. Now, however, after the disappearance of the young master of that house, there was no point to it all, especially after the death of the lady of the house, and...

The double doors of the palace throne room opened wide, and the young emperor was seated on the throne, waiting for him to present himself. With his feet feeling heavy, he started forward, not stopping until he could come down to one knee before the emperor.

"I, Gailardia Galan Gardios, present myself to you, my lord and emperor, Peony Ulpa Malkuth the Ninth," the blonde declared with nothing but the utmost formality. Emperor Peony raised an eyebrow at his behavior, curious, but not about to say so.

"I welcome your return, Gailardia, and welcome you to the House of Lords," Peony returned, tilting his head to the side. "Though I am curious, where have you been these eight years?"

"In the house of those that slew my family, my lord."

The answer came so quickly and honestly, that the Emperor needed a moment to process it over his surprise. He leaned back on his throne, observing the fair haired youth before him; asking why he was there would have been a waste of breath, but...

"So, you had a hand in the kidnapping of the young master Fabre," Peony stated, but again the boy would surprise him with his answer.

"No, my lord," he said, "I was asleep at the time of the kidnapping, nor had I ever heard of it until the event occurred."

"Then you are unaware of the fact that the young master returned safely on his own?" the emperor asked.

"I only found out this morning," Gailardia replied, lowering his head. "...however, despite this knowledge, I have no desire to return."

Peony was starting to wonder when he would stop being surprised by this kid’s answers. "You found the revenge you sought then?"

"No," the boy answered, not looking up so the emperor could not see the look in his eyes, "but... enough damage has been done."

Peony slumped back in his throne, considering the blonde's words... before he suddenly clapped his hands together loudly, making Gailardia jump and snap his head up to the emperor.

“Well then, all is well!” Peony exclaimed. "Welcome home, Gailardia."

The boy was at a loss for words, but he merely nodded, standing when the emperor motioned for him to do so. Formality was clearly dispensed with at that moment, for Peony hauled himself off the throne, going over and clapping his hands on Gailardia’s shoulders. He stared up at the older smiling man, at a loss as to how to properly respond.

"Well, I imagine you have quite a lot to catch up with," he began, "but do me one small favor; when you are situated, come to me again. I might have something fun for you to do!"

Gailardia stared, barely managing to stutter out an, "U-uh... all right..."


	3. Chapter Two: Travels

CHAPTER TWO – TRAVELS

Over excessive manual labor was not his forte.

Szayel shuffled out of the Akzeriuth mines, somehow managing to stand up straight amongst the other sweaty, repulsive mine workers. Unfortunately, he had to work in these mines, hacking out some kind of raw metal material that seemed to be unique to the planet, to pay for where he was staying at the moment. It was also to save up for whatever cost it would take to get them from this pimple on the ass of existence to wherever it was he decided to take the brat.

As soon as they walked out of the mines, the cold hit the miners in the face, and Szayel shuddered violently despite the many layers of clothes he was wearing. He hated not having his powers; it was amazing how the slightest disturbance could affect a human being so damn much. As soon as he had a clear shot, he was dashing past the other miners, heading up to the upper layers of the city, where the inn was, despite the chuckles coming from behind him. Stupid humans...

It was not long before he was back in the warmth again, and Szayel let out a breath of relief as he made his way over to his room. Unfortunately, his relief was short lived, because as soon as he opened the door to his room, a certain brat latched onto his legs. He let out a strangled noise, wheeling his arms around in a vain effort to keep his balance... only to end up face first on the ground anyway. Somehow, the boy managed to avoid being smashed under him, and crawled up to him, cooing as he planted a sloppy wet kiss on Szayel's head.

"Thank you..." the scientist snarled, venom practically pouring out of his mouth. He forced himself back up, holding his nose tenderly. The boy rolled back onto his rear end, pouting his cheeks out, before letting out an exceptionally rude noise.

"Oh yes, that's attractive," he drawled. "Which exceedingly idiotic human being taught you that, so I can gut them for making my life even more miserable?"

The boy just responded by wheeling his arms around like Szayel had before, falling backwards into a heap of giggles. The scientist just gave him a flat, exasperated look, shaking his head as he stood back up, heading straight to the bathroom without a word. Naturally, the brat followed him, crawling all the way after him and plopping himself down at the lip of the bathroom. Szayel gave the boy a look as he shed his clothes, throwing his shirt on top of him as a silent command to get out. Naturally instead, the boy took that as a cue to play, wrapping himself up in Szayel's sweaty clothing.

"...idiot," Szayel muttered, pulling his pants down...

...and promptly letting out a high pitched scream.

"Where is it?!" he near wailed, grabbing his penis and turning it over in his hand. No, no, no; where was his Hollow hole!? Unfortunately, his panic took his attention off the boy, who felt the need to crawl over and see what Szayel was so panicked over... and promptly reach up and grab it. Szayel howled in pain, jumping back and out of the child’s grasp.

"You...! You...!" he snarled, before grabbing the brat by the scruff of his neck, dropping him outside of the bathroom, and slamming the door shut. There was a pause, before he heard the boy giggling happily, and smacked a hand to his forehead in exasperation.

Szayel waited until the giggling stopped, before he made his way over to the medicine cabinet and the mirror on it. Hesitantly, he reached up, grasping his glasses – they were his mask, his identity as a Hollow, and they were not meant to ever come off. Carefully, slowly, he pulled forward… and the glasses came off easily in his hands. He stared down at the bone in his hands, squinting, as apparently he needed whatever prescription the lenses were.

 _As far as they will know, you are as human as they are, and as long as your powers remain sealed, that is all they will ever know._

Szayel dropped the glasses in the sink, planting his elbows on the rim and his head in his hands. This could not be happening; he did not want to become a human being just to escape from Hell. Humans were disgusting, vile, weak, and pathetic.

There was a click, and he glanced over to see the boy flop over with the door after figuring out how to get it open. He crawled over to him, plopping back down on the ground and looking up at him.

"Oh go away," he hissed. "This is your fault."

The boy pouted up at him, before grabbing onto his leg, pulling himself up so he could stand up unsteadily on his feet.

"...paaaaw..."

Szayel glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"Paaaaaa..." the boy repeated. "Paaaapaaa. Papa. Papa? Papa!"

Szayel stared down at him in mute shock, watching the boy reach up and pat against his side, chanting, "Papa," over and over again. Hesitantly, he reached down, lifting the boy up in his arms.

"Papa?"

Szayel let out a defeated sigh, resting his head against the brat's. "Oh... fine," he muttered. "I suppose this means I need to name you now..."

~.oOOo.~

"What do you mean the Order refuses to hand over Grants?!"

Luke near jumped out of his skin as he passed by his father’s study, startled by the shout and accompanying bang that came from within. It was a moment later that his brain processed the words, and his eyes opened wide; the Order of Lorelei would not release Van? _Why?!_ Feeling his anger bubble inside him, he scooted over to the partially open door, peering inside where he could see his father just two inches away from wringing a courier from the Order by his frill covered neck.

"My liege, please," the man began, trying to placate his father (as useless of a gesture as that was), "The Order of Lorelei is already overseeing charges against him for attempting to overthrow the Score with his actions. Both Kimlasca and Malkuth are demanding Commandant Grants' head, but he must first receive justice within the Order for his heresy."

"To the abyss with your heresy charges!" his father bellowed. "He kidnapped my son! He performed innumerable experiments on him! He caused the death of my wife! The chaos he visited upon the House of Fabre holds _infinitely_ more weight than your heresy charges!"

"I apologize for your loss, my liege, but the Order—"

There was a loud bang, and the courier from the Order had to duck to avoid something that his father threw at him.

 _"OUT!"_

The man did not need much more prompting, and Luke had to scurry out of the way so he would not be run over by the slightly panicked holy man. Luke turned to watch the man run out of the mansion, before he stood up, brushing himself off and gently pushing open the door to his father's study.

"Father...?"

The duke snapped his head up, before he forced his expression to calm. "Luke, you should know better than to snoop around like that."

"My apologies, father," Luke replied, inclining his head. "I just... I heard that Van was escaping punishment and I was concerned."

Duke Fabre gave him a concerned look, before his shoulders wilted slightly. He shook his head, pounding a fist on the desk halfheartedly.

"He takes everything away from me much sooner than I am prepared for, and he walks away because defying the Order takes precedence over defying _existence,"_ he snarled.

Though Luke could tell his father's temper was about to rise again, all he could feel was ice flowing through his veins. He trembled in rage, his hands curling up into fists.

"...what Van said was true..." he began softly, and the fact that his father froze then did nothing to cool the hot rage that was bubbling up inside of him. "Took everything away _sooner_ than you were prepared for? So you already knew what would happen to me in the future! That I would be used as a weapon of Kimlasca long before I would ever take the throne!"

"Luke—"

"No!" Luke shouted. "People should choose to live their lives the way they want to! They shouldn't be forced to do something they don't want to do just because some prophecy someone read two thousand years ago said so!"

"Luke!" his father snapped. "You can't say such things!"

"Then I won't, not publicly. Not yet," Luke hissed, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "But I will never go to any mining city, and I will _never_ be used as a weapon!"

~.oOOo.~

She was sitting alone in her room again, as she had done since word of what happened up on the Outer Lands reached those below the crust of the world. It was too hard to accept, that her brother would betray everyone like this, and that no one in the Order would punish him for it. She clasped her hands before her, clenching them together so tight that her knuckles were white; he was coming home for awhile, as if to prove to the world that he indeed was being punished for his deeds.

She could not _stand it._

Below her, she could hear the sounds of her grandfather preparing to welcome him, as if nothing were wrong. Naturally, she expected him to give him hell for defying the Score later on, but she did not plan on staying around to find out.

In the next moment she was up off of her bed, grabbing a bag she had prepared days before. With everyone preoccupied, it took hardly any effort for her to slip out of the house and into the central offices of the city. The Yulia Road was simple enough to operate, even for someone of her age.

She was not going to stay around to watch the man she idolized twist into something horrible.

~.oOOo.~

The time to say good bye to the mining town of Akzeriuth had come faster than Szayel had anticipated, not that he was complaining. When there was a much needed break in the snow and the overwhelming cold, a carriage had come, with service bringing them to the capital. Though he had yet to save up the full amount, the other miners had pitched in, giving him the money he needed to cover the trip, and also a bit to get started in the city.

"You and your kid need it more than we do!" the mine foreman said after giving them the gift, especially when Szayel had looked so befuddled by the kind gesture.

He still did not understand it, but he was not going to complain about it.

The boy was standing by the window of the carriage, holding onto the frame as his knees wobbled with the unsteady ride. He kept making sounds of awe at the endless white around them… or just general sounds about anything; Szayel was not exactly well versed in baby-speak. He had zoned out some time after they had pulled away from the town, and he even began to nod off to sleep when the boy started jumping up and down, pointing out the window.

"What now...?" Szayel muttered, pushing himself up to peer out the window. At first he could not see what had the boy so upset, until he spotted something dark stirring in the snow, lift what had to be a human head, before slumping back to the ground.

"Stop the carriage!"

He found himself running out from the carriage before he could stop to realize that he really should not give a damn, the boy calling out behind him. The dark lump did indeed turn out to be a human: a young girl wearing clothes that were clearly not for this kind of weather. Szayel reached down, feeling for a pulse, before scooping the child into his arms and hurrying back to the carriage.

"Where is the nearest town?" he called up to the coachman as he laid her out on one of the seats.

"Engeve is just down the road, on the way to the capital," the man replied. "We'll need to make a stop there anyway to warm up."

"Let's hurry then," Szayel replied, ducking back inside and closing the door. The boy was hovering by the girl as the carriage started up again, very quiet and almost... bashful?

"...pwitty."

Oh you had to be kidding...

 _"Pretty,"_ he corrected, sounding exasperated. He nudged the boy to the side, kneeling down to inspect her body. Her fingers were darkened, probably already in the stages of frostbite, as were the tips of her ears. If they got her into the warmth soon, they might have a chance of saving her limbs, but considering the overall technology of this place, he was not betting on that.

They reached Engeve before nightfall, and it was still light enough for Szayel to see that this town was nothing more than a simple farming village. His hopes of finding someone to treat the girl quickly dwindled, and as the coachman went off to find a place to board the horses for the night, he went right to the inn with the girl in his arms, the boy wobbling along behind him.

Inside, there was a man that could only be the innkeeper, and a young, roly-poly woman with curly brown hair. They both turned as he entered, and the woman gasped as she laid eyes on the girl, hurrying over to them.

"What happened?"

"We found her in the snow on the ride here," Szayel answered, allowing the woman to take her out of his arms. "It seems like she's been traveling for some time."

The woman hurried the girl in the back of the main room, where a fire was warming the establishment, shouting for the innkeeper to call for a healer. He ran out of the inn just as the boy came to cling to Szayel's leg, watching curiously. It was not long before the innkeeper returned with a younger man in tow, who rushed over to help.

"How long has she been unconscious?" the healer asked.

"A few hours at most," Szayel answered, coming closer to watch.

The young man nodded, before holding his hands out, muttering something under his breath. A glow suddenly enveloped the girl, and Szayel did not need his powers to realize what was going on.

 _"Kidō,"_ he breathed, eyes widening. Humans that could use spells comparable to a shinigami... when that flame had said this world was much more spiritually dense, he had no idea just how _much_ denser it was compared to Earth.

The glow finally faded, and the girl let out a soft noise, eyes opening a fraction. Szayel just stood by and watched as the humans crowded around her, making sure she was all right, before quietly slipping out with the boy.


	4. Chapter Three: Light

CHAPTER THREE – LIGHT

The boy was curled up sleeping on his lap as the carriage pulled away from Engeve, the light from the rising sun splashing over the snow covered fields. Szayel gently stroked his back, something like a smile coming to his face as he glanced down at him, watching the light splash over his red hair, shining gold and making it look like dancing flames. The boy let out a faint sound, snuggling closer to him and murmuring, "Papa," in his sleep.

"You are such a strange child," Szayel murmured, running his fingers through the boy's hair. He fell silent for a moment, glancing out at the sun, before looking back. "I think I know what to name you, now..."

~.oO Three Years Later Oo.~

A pair of green eyes was peering out from grass of the same shade, staring intently at a small bird pecking at the ground, trying to get at a worm that was eluding it. The owner of the eyes slowly crept forward, blades of grass brushing against bright pink hair... before he suddenly pounced, grabbing for the bird. It let out a loud squawk, abandoning the worm and flapping away, letting the boy eat dirt before attacking his hair instead... thinking it was a much bigger worm. He let out a yelp, flailing as his head was pecked at, before managing to scramble to his feet and bolting away, the bird following and screeching angrily.

"Papa!" the boy wailed. _"Paaaapaaaaaa!!!"_

He hit the dirt, and not long after, the bird suddenly went flying, squawking all the way. The boy let out a confused noise, before peering up to see his father hovering over him with his mouth turned down into a severe expression, a wooden training sword slung over his shoulder as he looked down, his glasses concealing the amused look in his eyes.

"Must you _always_ find _some_ way to get into trouble, Lucato?"

Lucato Granz sat up on his knees, giving his father a sheepish look.

"I thought it would be a good specimen for you, father," he replied, a huge, cheerful grin creeping onto his face. Szayel Aporro could not hold his serious frown, letting out an amused snort as he lowered his sword.

The three years that had passed since he had found the boy had been… interesting, to say the least. After arriving at the Malkuth capital city, working and taking care of Lucato had been all he could focus on, and there just were not enough hours in the day to accomplish both. Szayel did not trust public schools to be adequately equipped to properly assist Luca and his "disability," for lack of a better way to describe it, so he had taken it upon himself to educate him. Though the boy adored him, such a task was far from easy, as when it came to learning, Lucato seemed less than amicable, and it took forever just to get the boy's intelligence up to his apparent age. In addition, no matter where he went with the boy, there always seemed to be someone that was staring at him, concerned about his hair color. A little research had revealed why: red hair was exceptionally rare, and typically restricted to the royal family of the rival country. Fortunately, Szayel's genius came in handy in that case, and it was not long before he found a way to make sure the boy's hair stayed pink to match his "father”"

On top of all the frustration that Lucato provided, he had to drift from job to job, trying to find a source of income that would appreciate the fact that he had a child he needed to supervise. He had to bite his pride, taking jobs that demeaned his very existence, only to be fired from them when he could not come to work as often as they wanted him to. It was not until he had looked into the Malkuth military that some kind of break came to him, and signing up had not only given him the security he needed, but also the time and understanding for his impromptu son. Being in another military was something he had wanted to avoid at all costs, least it bring up questions that he did not wish to answer, but it proved beneficial not only with Lucato but with learning more about the world and the fonic technology that drove society.

Szayel held out his hand, and Lucato climbed up to his feet, taking it and joining his father back to where he was training with a handful of recruits newer than he was. Luca sat down on the outskirts of the training area as his father rejoined them, managing to sit still for a few minutes, before he jumped back up to his feet, looking around. After a moment, he skirted around the area, grinning broadly as he found what he was looking for: a spare training sword. He lifted it up, stumbling with it for a moment, as it was much larger than he was. Once he had his balance back, he turned toward his father and the trainees, watching them for a moment, before starting to mimic them, swinging the sword in the same movements.

He continued for good long moment, really getting into it... and not realizing it when some of the trainees stopped and pointed, chuckling faintly. Szayel paused a moment to follow the pointing, letting out an exasperated noise and shaking his head.

"Luca, _what_ are you doing?"

Lucato let out a yelp, dropping the wooden sword and turning around, eyes wide. "Nothing!"

That got the rest of the recruits laughing as his father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned to tell the others to shut up, before he paused, an idea coming to him. A smirk crept onto his face, before he motioned to his son.

"Luca, come here," he ordered. "Bring the sword."

Lucato hesitated a moment, before picking up the sword and hugging it to his chest as he timidly started toward the training area. He stopped before his father, peering up at him shyly, expecting to be scolded.

"Do you want to learn how to fight?"

That was not what he was expecting; Luca's eyes widened and he looked from his father to the trainees, then back to his father. He nodded his head enthusiastically, eyes wide and sparkling with delight as the trainees chuckled again. Szayel shook his head, before motioning to the others.

They each took turns fighting, Luca ending up on his butt more often than not, but he always bounced back up to his feet, ready for another go. By the time they called it a day at sundown, he was bruised and had a few scrapes on his arms and legs, but nothing could tear the smile from his face as he road home on his father's shoulders.

~.oOOo.~

A line of new recruits stood at attention, barely a muscle twitching as General Cecile walked up and down the line, observing each and every one of them. They were a promising batch, if a little on the young side; one of the black haired ones looked like he was barely a teenager. Idly, she could not help but wonder how many of them would survive training, and how few would actually be more than just simple soldiers. After a moment, she shook her head, finally coming to a stop.

"Today begins your training," she began. "To start, we will evaluate your knowledge, or lack thereof, of swordsmanship through a series of exercises. This is to see who among you will need more training than others, and who will be sent home. Now, pair off!"

It was quickly apparent who had any kind of training and who did not. The promising batch quickly dwindled to a small handful as more than just a few hit the ground, improper blocks and attacks sending them fumbling. Only the black haired boy she had observed before seemed to have received any real formal training; his movements were polished and sharpened with experience, almost as if he had been born with a sword in his hand. Cecile frowned to herself as she watched him; something about his face seemed familiar...

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she almost gasped as she caught sight of a delicate seeming blonde teen in a rich looking cloak. She ordered the recruits to stop, and all eyes followed her as she walked up to the young lady.

"Princess Natalia, it is not safe for you to be here right now," Cecile said, inclining her head respectfully.

"But I've come to see the new recruits," the princess protested. "It's not improper for me to do so."

Why could her life never be easy? Cecile took a breath, striving for calm. "But it is not safe. Please, return to the palace."

Natalia opened her mouth to protest, when the young dark haired man stepped forward, saluting.

"General, if I may, I will escort the princess back to the palace."

Cecile paused at that, raising an eyebrow at the... _bold_ offer. "Your name, Cadet?"

"Asch, General."

She glanced at him, and then to the cadet he had been fighting against... who was currently sprawled out on the ground, exhausted from trying to keep up with him. Well, she did not have to worry about whether or not he was a competent fighter...

"Very well, Cadet Asch," she replied. As he moved to pass by her, however, she grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Don't do anything stupid, Cadet."

Asch turned, saluting her again, before going up to the princess. She gave him a hard look as he held out a hand, motioning for her to go first, and she let out a huff, starting down the street. Cecile watched him follow her at a respectful distance, before turning back to the other recruits, satisfied.

Natalia, however, could not look any farther from satisfied. Her arms were folded over her chest as she stomped off, well aware of the cadet behind her, and the fact that he had an amused smirk on his face. It was not until they were close to the castle that she stopped, whirling on the young man.

"That will be quite far enough, thank you," she huffed. "I did not need an escort, especially one being so obstinate!"

The smirk on Asch's face only widened, green eyes bright with barely suppressed laughter. "Natalia, I've never imagined you capable of being so angry."

Natalia's eyes widened, insulted. "How dare you refer to me so informally!"

She looked like she was going to stomp over and slap him, but Asch took a step back, holding up his hands.

"Natalia, it's _me."_

She paused at that, frowning as she looked him up and down. For a moment, she could only stare, focused mostly on his face… before it finally dawned on her, her eyes widening in horror and surprise.

"Luke!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him instead. Luke chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her around once before placing her down on her feet. She pulled away then, running her fingers through his darkened hair. "Why did you do this? Why join the military?"

"I had to," he explained softly. "We will be married one day, and I will be king. The only way I can keep my promise to you is by understanding the people that serve the royal house, just as you go out among the people and understand them."

"But father ordered you to stay restricted to the Fabre Manor," she replied. "If you get caught—"

"Then I won't get caught," Luke interrupted her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Trust me, Natalia."

Natalia held the concerned expression on her face for a moment, before she deflated, smiling faintly.

"Of course I do," she replied softly, running her fingers through his hair again. "I will miss your hair color, though."

~.oOOo.~

Gailardia Galan Gardios, professional busagi walker, was not exactly the title he had ever wanted.

He let out a grunt as Jade tried to walk him instead of the other way around, Saphir trying to keep up with the other animal, only to be knocked to the side. Nephry and Aslan were being much tamer, but they also were not doing much to help Gailardia get a better grip on the other two bunny eared pigs. An exasperated groan escaped from him as Jade finally bit Saphir, and that finally got the smaller busagi to back away, sulking as snot dribbled from his nose.

"'Something fun for you to do'," Gailardia muttered under his breath for what had to be the millionth time in the three years he had been doing this. _"Right."_

As if insulted by his grumbling, Jade finally broke free of his hold on the leash, barreling off down the street.

"Ah, Jade!" Gailardia called after the animal. "Er... Cute Jade! Get back here!"

He ran after the animal, the other three barreling down the street along with him. People shouted as they got out of the way of the rampaging animals, except for a young boy. The boy watched as the pig ran past him… before darting off after it, pink hair bouncing around his face as he let out an excited giggle.

"Ah, hey!" Gailardia called after him. "Don't, it's—"

The boy suddenly _leaped,_ pouncing on top of Jade and swinging his legs around the animal and riding him like he was a small horse. He let out an excited whoop while the busagi let out an irritated noise, coming to a sudden, skidding stop and ejecting the boy. The whoop turned into a startled yelp as he went tumbling end over end, landing on his stomach with a soft, "oof". Gailardia caught up, grabbing Jade’s leash so he could not wander off, before going to check on the pink haired boy.

"Are you okay?"

A giggle escaped from the boy, before he popped right back up, turning around... and Gailardia's mouth almost dropped to the ground.

"I'm fine!" Lucato exclaimed, a bright grin on his face. An awkward moment passed, before his expression calmed, noticing that he was being stared at. "Um... is there something on my face?"

"Ah... eh... n-nothing..." the young noble replied, trying to stop staring. That _face..._ decades could pass by, and he would never forget the face of the young man that he had bowed to and obeyed and called master.

If Lucato noticed his uneasiness, he did not show it, merely shrugging after a moment. "Your busagi is a lot of fun. Can I train him to let me ride him?"

Gailardia nearly fell over at the strange question; then again, was this really the same person? "Uh, he's not mine. He belongs to the Emperor."

Luca's eyes widened as he leaned closer, mouth shrinking to a small "o" of surprise. "You work for the palace!?"

He leaned back as the other boy got closer. "Sort of..."

It was fortunate that he had moved away as the pink haired boy got closer, because Lucato chose to let out an excited noise at that moment.

"That's so cool!" he exclaimed. "What's it like inside? Papa has to go in a lot for guard duty and other soldier stuff, but he never tells me anything. He just says it 'looks like a palace'."

"Well, it's—"

Gailardia barely got that much out before Luca continued, bouncing excitedly on his toes.

"Oh, oh! Are you going to be at the ceremony tonight?" he asked. "Are you going to get to see the Fon Master? Is he really a little green man?"

Gailardia's mouth worked, trying to find answers for the curious boy's questions, when a clock tower bell rang somewhere in the distance. Lucato's attitude suddenly changed completely as he sprang to his feet, a horrified look on his face. He looked back down to the blonde, panic starting to creep onto him.

"A-ah! Sorry, but I have to go, or I’ll be late for dinner," he said in a rush, before bolting off down the street. Gailardia fumbled to his feet, reaching out to grab for him, but with no luck.

"Wait!" he called after him, fumbling for a moment. "My name's Guy! What's yours?"

The boy turned around, running backwards as he answered, "Lucato! Lucato Granz! I'll see you again sometime, Busagi Guy!"

Gailardia stood there silently, ignoring the bunny eared pigs as they tried to get his attention. His attention at the moment was only for the boy sprinting down the street, his eyes following him until he disappeared from sight.

Lucato.

Luca.

 _"Luke..."_


	5. Chapter Four: Fon Master

CHAPTER FOUR – FON MASTER

The palace was decked out in complete regal splendor, with tapestries and banners proudly displaying the symbol and colors of the Malkuth Empire at every turn. Hundreds of nobles were out and about, dressed in regal splendor that could only be expected for a ceremony as important as the official coronation of Emperor Peony Ulpa Malkuth the Ninth, a ceremony that had been long in coming due to matters of safety for the young emperor. It was an affair that anyone in the country would kill to be a part of... except, of course, if you were stuck in one spot all night long, forced to watch people dancing and swirling about without moving a muscle.

Szayel sighed privately, wishing he had not been chosen for this; attempting to instruct Luca on advanced trigonometry was preferable to mimicking a statue as he was. If he could get away with it, he probably would have allowed himself a light doze while standing up. As tempting as it was to try it, with his luck someone would notice, or something bad would actually happen and he would be unprepared to counter attack.

He shifted on his feet; it would not have been so bad if the soldiers could at least sample some of the food...

No sooner did he think that, did he mentally cut himself off, eyes widening as he caught a flash of pink across the way. Oh god, please no. _Please_ let that not be who he thought it was...

Szayel was not the only one that spotted the errant head of pink hair. Guy had spotted it while in mid conversation with an affluent duke that kept trying to push his daughter off on him – and ignoring all objections to the fact that being anywhere near a woman made him freak out. It gave him a good excuse to politely excuse himself and run off, trying to find where that pinkness went.

His search took him to a long table of refreshments, but there was still no sign of the other boy. Guy blew out a breath; thinking for a moment the young man had given him the slip... when he spotted a stray hand reach up from under the table, feeling around for a plate of crackers with some fancy sauce and cheeses on them, before taking the whole plate under the table. The young count let out a sigh, idly wondering what the real Luke would think of such behavior, before ducking under the table.

Lucato was midway to stuffing a cracker in his mouth when Guy suddenly popped up under with him, making him jump and crack his head on the underside of the table. He hissed, reaching back to rub his head, before grinning broadly at him.

"Busagi Guy! I was hoping I'd get to see you here!" he exclaimed brightly, his smile wide enough to take up his face.

Guy let out a soft noise, unable to keep himself from grinning as well. "What are you doing here, Lucato? You know how much trouble you could get into if you were caught?"

Luca pouted, offering Guy a cracker and cheese, as if that would keep him from telling on him. Guy snorted, before settling down on the floor next to him.

"I really wanted to see the palace," he answered as Guy accepted the cracker. "And the Fon Master! I've read a lot about him, and father tells me a lot about the Seventh Fonon and stuff."

"Is your father a Seventh Fonist?"

Luca shook his head. "Nope, but I am. At least, that's what he says. I haven't had a chance to really learn how to us it."

Guy tilted his head, confused. "Why's that?"

Lucato grew quiet, staring down at the plate. "Father said he found me in an old castle three years ago, and that I must have suffered a really bad head injury, because I couldn't remember anything at all."

"Nothing?"

Luca shook his head. "Nope; I couldn't even talk. Father's been teaching me everything since."

Guy fell quiet at that; he heard the rumors, of course, of Van Grants kidnapping Luke fon Fabre and putting him through horrible experiments to make a replica. No one really knew why or for what possible purpose having two Lukes around would serve, just that the successful replica that had been made from the experiment had gone missing before Kimlascan troops arrived at the location where "the real Luke" was supposed to be.

Apparently, this boy's "father" had been in the right place at the right time, because there was no doubt in Guy's mind that if this replica had been found, the real Luke would have never been able to return to the manor as he did.

"But it's okay," Lucato continued, snapping Guy out of his thoughts. "I don't need memories of whatever life I had before. You can't go forward if you keep looking back, you know?"

Guy stared at him, at a loss for words… before a faint smile came to his face. "That's... very true," he said softly.

Suddenly, the music outside changed, and Lucato's ears perked up, curious. "What's going on?"

"They must be starting the ceremony," Guy replied, before he grinned. "C'mon, I've got my own box. We'll be able to see what's happening really well from up there."

Luca's mouth formed a small "o" as Guy led him out from under the table, the boy clinging to his hand as he quickly slipped through the crowd that was gathering around the center dais of the room. They came around the hallways, back up to the observation box that Guy had told him about, and Luca clung to the railing, watching in mute awe as the Emperor came up to be officially named Emperor of Malkuth.

"Wow..." Luca murmured as Guy sat down behind him. "The emperor must really like you, Busagi Guy! This is such a cool view!"

Lucato was so caught up in staring out at the floor below, that he did not notice the other person in the room, an older man with a sword at his belt and the crest of Hod on his tabard, speaking softly to Guy. By the time he had finally managed to tear his eyes away, the man had already gone.

"Thanks Guy," he said. "This is really cool."

"You want really cool, look straight ahead," Guy said, a broad smile on his face.

Lucato blinked at him, before turning to look straight ahead as Guy said. Across the massive room was another box, where a pale young boy with green hair in light green robes was sitting, a staff with the symbol of the Order of Lorelei in his hands. Seated beside him was a similarly dressed young girl, though her color was pink. The young boy looked up from the ceremony at that moment, spotting Luca staring, and treating him to a friendly smile and a wave. Luca stared, eyes growing huge, and he managed to raise a hand, waving back.

"That's... the Fon Master... isn't it...?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yep," Guy replied, grinning.

Guy counted off in his head, before Luca let out the squeal he was expecting, launching himself at the young count barely a second later.

"Kyah! Guy! Thanks so much!" he exclaimed, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Heh, you're welcome, Luca," Guy replied, awkwardly patting him on the back.

Lucato finally separated himself from him, glancing back toward the Fon Master, watching a moment as the young boy and the girl beside him stood up, starting to walk away.

"But... it's weird... something doesn't seem right..." he murmured. "Is he okay?"

Guy stood, going over to stand beside Luca. "Well, they say the Fon Master is very sick. He doesn't come to functions normally, unless they're really important like this."

Lucato was silent for a moment, and Guy already knew what he was going to say next: "Guy, I want to follow him. Just to make sure he makes it okay."

"I knew you'd say that," Guy replied with a small smile, reaching for where a sword was propped up against the wall. "C'mon then."

The two of them left the box and slipped through the hallways, finally catching up with the Fon Master as he was starting out the door of the palace with his guardians. They hung back, keeping a respectful distance as the party made their way down the street. Everything seemed normal... until a group of men stepped out of the darkness, each of them with swords at their belts. Guy and Luca ducked behind a building, though it made them too far away to see what they were talking about. It did not take much to figure it out; as a moment later the men were drawing their weapons.

"We gotta help him!" Luca hissed, though Guy was already drawing his sword. The two ran out as the Fon Master's pink guardian attacked, defending the young boy. Guy reached them first, his sword going through one of the men easily, before going on to the next.

Lucato came to a stop at the man Guy felled, staring down at the blank look on the man's face as blood started to seep out from under him. He was not completely ignorant; he knew that fighting led to death and destruction, but actually seeing it was something else entirely. He felt his stomach twist, a sick feeling working up into his throat as he looked up, watching the Fon Master just stare at the fighting as if nothing were wrong. His gaze shifted over to Guy, who felled another man with a bit of difficulty, and the Fon Master's guardian struggling with her own opponent.

"Luca!"

Lucato snapped out of it then, finding himself face to face with another one of the men, sword pointed right toward him. He ducked down, the weapon sailing over his head as he grabbed up the sword of the first man that had fallen before he came back up, the weapon pointed out. It took him a moment to realize that the man was not moving anymore, and he cracked his eyes open to see his sword in the man’s chest, blood blossoming around the blade. Luca jumped back as the man fell, his head swimming as the watched the blood run along the cracks in the road.

He forced himself to look up, just in time to catch the Fon Master's guardian as the man she was fighting sent her flying. The Fon Master seemed to snap out of it then, a cold look coming to his face. In the next moment, the air around them started to buzz, as if sound itself was coming to life, before power suddenly exploded around the Fon Master, leaving Luca, Guy, and the guardian unharmed... but the men that attacked were not so fortunate. Other than bloody smears on the pavement, there was not much left to them.

Lucato did not have much time to process what happened, as the Fon Master let out a weak sounding noise, collapsing to the ground. Fortunately, Guy was able to get to him first, checking to make sure he was still conscious, as Luca checked on the guardian he had caught.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, trying not to sound as sick as he felt.

"A-Arietta is fine," she answered weakly. "Master Ion... is Master Ion all right...?"

"I-I don't know..." Luca replied, looking up to Guy. The blonde looked up at that moment, a worried look on his face.

"He's still alive," he said softly. "I'm not so sure about all right."

"Master Ion..." Arietta whimpered.

Lucato bit his lip, trying to think, when the clomp of boots drew his attention away. He grabbed for the sword, raising it to protect Arietta, only to see a Malkuth soldier appear from the same direction they came from.

"Luca!" the man called, pulling his helmet off...

"Father!" Luca exclaimed, pointing to Guy and Ion. Szayel, thankfully, did not ask; he went immediately to the Fon Master, his fingers probing gently. A tense silence fell over the small group, before he finally lifted his head, pointing to his son.

"You are grounded as soon as I'm done here," Szayel stated, reaching down to lift the fragile Fon Master in his arms.

"I'm fine with that," Luke replied, helping Arietta so they could follow him.

~.oOOo.~

It was probably fortunate that Szayel had become very close friends with the local doctor, thanks to Luca and his penchant for getting into as much trouble as humanly possible. Naturally, "friendship" had been something that was out of the question three years ago, but when you are forced to be human, you adapt quickly, and right now Szayel needed the discretion that only a friend would allow.

Said doctor friend remained in the lobby with his son and the others, while he examined the Fon Master, concerned about what he had observed out on the street. As Lorelei had said, as long as his powers remained sealed, no one would know him as an arrancar, and the minions of Hell would never be able to detect him. However, even with his limited understanding of the fonons that were the building blocks of this world, he could at least mimic his old abilities – especially his powers of observation.

He held his hands up over the young boy, letting out a soft breath as he let the fonons flow through him, projecting them out to the Fon Master. The deeper look into the boy’s physical structure proved the small observation before proved to be correct.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, pushing himself away. "The most important person in this world, and they let him get this si—"

He cut himself off as a weak hand grabbed at his arm, and Szayel looked down to see the Fon Master was awake.

"Don't..." he gasped out, pausing a moment to turn and cough. Szayel settled back down, grabbing up a towel to clean up the blood that resulted. "No... cure..."

"Of course there is one," Szayel replied mildly. "If someone had seen a doctor as soon as these symptoms began, it would have never progressed this far."

Ion still shook his head. "Not... meant to be..."

Szayel paused. "I'm sorry...?"

The Fon Master did not answer right away, slowly drawing breath as he fought to control his weakened body. When he finally did speak, his voice was still just barely above a whisper.

"The Score says... that I will die... in two years."

Szayel just stared for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The Score – a prophecy that the people of this world followed to the point of near fanaticism. He had lost count of how many times priests from the Order of Lorelei asked if he wished to have his Score read before going out on a mission, or just walking past a church on his off duty hours. It was insane and obsessive, and he did his well best to ignore it, and ensure Lucato ignored it too... if only because he had a feeling neither of them would be written in this "Score".

"Forgive me if I come off as rude, Master Ion, but... what exactly is your point?" he asked mildly. "If everything happened as it was 'meant' to happen, then I would be rotting away in Hell right now, instead of treating your illness."

Ion stared at him, looking like he had never expected to hear such an answer from another person before. Hesitantly, he released his arm, letting his hand come back to rest limply at his side.

~.oOOo.~

The waiting area of the doctor's office felt cold and cramped, and Luca wanted nothing more than to run out of there and not be left to think of what he had just done. He stared down at his hands, half expecting to see them coated with blood and gore, the dead eyes of the men they had been fighting swimming into his vision every time he closed his eyes. He fought against a whimper, curling up in his seat and trying not to look down at his hands. Beside him, Guy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a sympathetic look coming to his face.

"That was your first time, wasn't it?" he asked softly. "Killing a man?"

Quietly, Luca nodded. Guy paused, glancing away; he could not believe he was doing this... this boy was a clone of the man he had hated for so long. He should not have been comforting him from the results of defending himself... but this replica was so far removed from anyone in the Fabre household that he could not bring himself to hate him.

"It doesn't get any easier," he said softly, reaching over and gently rubbing his back. "But when it comes to defending others or defending your own life, you have to do what you can."

"I know," Luca answered softly. "Father... I understand it through him. But... it's not something I would do willingly, even in my own defense."

Guy gave him a gentle smile as the Fon Master's guardian sat down on her knees before Luke, holding his hands.

"Arietta has to kill too," she said. "Arietta has always had to kill. Arietta did not understand what it meant until Master Ion found her." She paused, bowing her head as she fought not to cry. "Arietta must always protect Master Ion... Arietta can't be without him..."

Lucato let out a soft noise, before he gave her hands a squeeze, forcing a smile on his face. "Don't worry, Arietta. My father is a genius. The Fon Master will be better than ever in no time."

Arietta looked up at him… before launching herself at him, giving him a ridiculously strong hug. Luca let out an awkward noise, swearing he heard a bone crack, as Guy let out an amused chuckle.

Their little moment of comfort was broken when a sharp knock came from the door. The three children stared at it with wide eyes as Luca’s doctor walked over to it, opening it just a crack. Soft words were exchanged, before the doctor suddenly stumbled back, the door banging opening loudly to reveal an older man in a ceremonial tabard. Guy jumped to his feet immediately, standing before Luca and Arietta.

"Pere! What are you doing here?"

The man paused, staring at Guy like he grew another head. "'What am I doing here'?" he echoed. "What do you think I'm doing here? Do you have an idea how frantic I was when I came back to the box and saw you missing, Master Gardios?"

Guy flinched, giving Pere a look as a faint gasp came from behind him.

"Master... _Gardios...?"_ Luca asked in a small voice. "Guy...?"

Guy rubbed the back of his neck, turning back to him slightly. "I'm sorry, Luca. I didn't mean to hide it, really... I just liked it better when you called me 'Guy'."

Luca pouted. "...does this mean I can't call you 'Busagi Guy' anymore?"

Guy let out a snort, privately relieved that the boy did not freak out, but a sheepish clearing of the throat drew his attention back to Pere.

"...perhaps I overreacted a little... but with word that the Fon Master also went missing..." he began, managing to look embarrassed. Guy gave his retainer a suspicious glare, frowning.

"Pere... what did you do...?"

His question was answered not by Pere, but by a tall man dressed in a military uniform that suddenly appeared behind him. The man gazed at the three children, before his red eyes flicked toward the door, behind which Szayel was treating the Fon Master. Luca twitched uneasily, clinging to Arietta a bit as the man stepped into the room.

"Well, it seems that we've solved both of our missing person cases," the man suddenly spoke up, sounding cheerful and pleasant, though Luca got the impression that there was nothing cheerful and pleasant about the man. The fact that Guy groaned softly, planting his forehead against his palm, did not help his opinion much. "Now," the man continued, "would you children be kind enough to tell me where the Fon Master is?"

Arietta pulled herself away from Luca, giving the man a stern look. "Master Ion is not feeling well. He is getting the help he needs."

The man raised an eyebrow. "How so, when the doctor is out here?"

"M-my father, sir," Lucato replied, standing up behind her. "Private Szayel Aporro Granz, sir."

For a moment, it seemed as if the man did not believe him, before he started toward the door that led to the treatment area. No one dared to stop him as he pushed the door open, revealing Szayel sitting beside the Fon Master, holding a breathing mask over his face and softly instructing him to breathe deeply. The pink haired man's head jerked up as the door was pushed open, and his eyes slowly widened behind his glasses when he saw who had invaded the room. Quickly, he made sure Ion was holding the mask securely, before standing up and saluting.

"Colonel Curtiss," Szayel began, feeling a weight pounding against the bottom of his stomach. "I'm certain there is a very good explanation for everything that has occurred tonight. I wish I could give it to you."

Lucato's head swam at the mention of the man's name: Colonel Jade Curtiss, also known as Jade the Necromancer... as well as Doctor Jade Balfour, the man that had written all those books on fonons that his father had made him read. Meeting all these famous people in one night, even if the circumstances were not exactly the best, was enough to make any boy his age thrilled.

Before anyone could offer the explanation promised by Szayel, the Fon Master removed the breath mask from his face, his voice soft and painfully weak, but still speaking with an authority and maturity beyond his physical age.

"The fault lies with me, Colonel," Ion began, pausing a moment to let out a painful sounding cough. Szayel moved to usher the mask back to his face, be a severe look from the boy made him stop short, a trembling feeling of familiarity making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Aizen had given him that look before, what felt like a lifetime ago; it was not a look that he expected from a young boy.

Ion sucked in a steadying breath before he continued, "What I am about to say is not to leave this room, though obviously there are those that already know. Tonight I was attacked, because for the past year or so, I have sought to prevent a line of the Score from coming to pass."

"Master Ion...?" Arietta murmured, looking like she wanted to push past Jade to the Fon Master, but worry and fear kept her rooted to the spot.

Ion let out a soft noise, closing his eyes. "I have been ill for a very long time," he explained, "for as long as I can remember. The Score has given me until my twelfth year."

Arietta let out a soft, terrified noise, but other than that, the office was deathly silent. Two years; that was all the time that the Fon Master had left. Szayel cleared his throat after a moment, adjusting his glasses.

"As I said, it doesn't have to be that way," he began. "What you have is a mere genetic disorder; your lungs merely did not develop as they should have. Annoying, but livable – if anything, your persistent use of the Seventh Fonon before anyone could have tested you for this is what did most of the damage."

"How ironic; a fonon used to heal worsening a condition," Jade commented, giving Szayel a curious look.

"I did not know," Ion murmured, his hands tightening into fists. "The Order... is such trash. The world itself is such trash. All anyone cares for is the Score, and what the Score says for them. I've wanted to destroy this world of the Score."

He had to stop his rant a moment, exploding into a coughing fit. Szayel pressed the mask to his face again, helping him to breathe properly. Arietta finally stepped forward then, hesitantly reaching out for his hand. Ion glanced at her as he fought to breathe, before loosening a first so that she could hold onto him.

"Mr. Granz?" she asked softly. "Is Master Ion going to be okay?"

"If he stops reading the Score, and continues to train his lungs like this, some apple gummies every now and then, he'll live as long as anyone else," Szayel replied.

Ion inhaled a few more times, before removing the mask. "I have no objections to this. However..."

"However?"

Ion glanced at Szayel, before focusing on Jade. "If I was to die, then no one could know about it. What would the Order be without the Fon Master, after all?"

It took a moment, before Jade’s eyes widened as he inhaled sharply, his entire demeanor changing in a blink.

"Fon Master..." he began, sounding like he was just barely containing his anger, _"why_ would you break the ban on Fomicry?"

"The ban on Fomicry was broken long before I agreed to Van's proposal."

Guy glanced at the back of Luca's head as Jade started to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. Van again... just what was he doing, messing with such a science?

"So the rumors out of Kimlasca were true," Jade mused. "The young heir was replicated by the heretic commandant..."

"Yes," the Fon Master answered, "Van was rather irate when the replica went missing. The only reason he was pardoned, was for this reason. A replica of myself would not only defy the Score, but also fool the rest of this trash world."

Szayel let out a soft noise, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You realize, of course, that the stress of the replication process only aggravated your condition. You could have lived past twelve years if you had not done so... not to mention you just brought a replica into the world with the same condition."

"Not just one. Seven."

Jade stopped so fast he probably left skid marks on the floor.

 _"Seven?"_

Ion nodded. "Not as many are still alive," he replied. "But still, those that still exist probably will not for much longer. The men that attacked me tonight knew of this, and the one that sent them will no doubt know what to do with them now that I'm supposedly 'dealt with'."

The Fon Master paused again, looking between Szayel and Arietta. "It seems... I was wrong about everyone in this world being trash loyal to the Score. I thought it was only Arietta that was exempt from it, but..."

Ion started coughing again, and he fumbled for the mask, breathing deeply. Lucato and Guy exchanged looks, before slipping inside the room, the former shuffling over to his father.

"Father?" he began. "What are we going to do?"

Szayel gave him a look that made his son cringe. "We? We are not going to do anything. You are going to go home while I stay here long enough to be fired, and then you are grounded for the rest of your _existence."_

Luca winced again, knowing very well that his father was pissed at him; that was the only time "the rest of your existence" was used, as opposed to "the rest of your life". He moved to hang back behind Guy, though Jade chose that moment to clear his throat, a hand tucked securely into a pocket.

"Fired?" he began. "Who said anything about firing you? You arrived promptly to assist a vital part of Auldrant society, dealt with the issue with discretion, and also diagnosed and treated a nearly fatal condition. I don't see anywhere in there a reason to have you discharged."

For a moment, all Szayel could do was stare at the colonel, before an almost meek, "...oh," came from him. Luca hesitantly looked back and forth between his father and Jade, opening his mouth, and—

"You're still grounded," Szayel and Jade said as one, cutting him off before he could even ask.


End file.
